Breakthrough
by Dancing-Shadows44
Summary: Katniss Everdeen tried not to think about it, but when Gale opens up the possibility of escaping their life in Panem, she is tempted. And when a turn of events puts Katniss as tribute in the Hunger Games, will she seize the oppurtunity to escape..with someone other than Gale? Review and I'll review yours! NEXT CHAPTER IS UP. Rated T.
1. Prologue

**A/N- Hey, this is my first fanfiction, but I love writing, so I hope everyone enjoys it! Please review and enjoy! :) Also, as a disclaimer, I will say that the characters and setting is all from Suzanne Collins, but I am trying to add my own unique twist on it! And the prologue takes place a few years before the 74th Hunger Games! Well, I'm off; hope you like it!**

"Hey, showoff," jeered the girl, still sweating from running through the forest in the hot, summer sun. "Lay off; I'm a girl, for God's sake!" Other girls would have been teasing, or in his own mother's words, all-out _flirting_ with _her_ son, but anyone could be fairly certain that this particular girl, with her half-scowl and her spitfire attitude, was slightly angry, or aggravated at least a tick.

Even though she was, in general, a quieter type of girl in all aspects, trying to remain very non-assuming to the eye, he was starting to see flashes of what she was really like, full of a sort of raw nerve and determination to do whatever was thrown at her. Any girl who could shoot something point-blank with a hand-crafted wooden bow from twenty feet up in a thick tangle of tree branches and scorched, summer leaves was no doubt someone worth his valued time.

"Exactly, Catnip," the boy was handsome, a trait he got from his father, and when he smiled like he was now, with his teeth and his charcoal eyes, almost any girl who was boy-crazy would swoon and beam back.

But not Katniss Everdeen.

"Just because I'm a skinny girl all alone in the woods with a bow and I'm two years younger than you does _not_ mean you can go around _murdering_ all the animals for me!" Katniss gestured to the medium-sized bobcat that lay motionless on the ground, wiped her brow, and tried to look as intimidating as a twelve-year-old girl could be to a boy almost twice her size. She pointed a threatening finger at him. "And if you call me that one more time I swear I will s-"

"C'mon, Catnip," Gale jokingly flicked Katniss's usual hairstyle, a thick, dark braid, which was as messy and carefree as usual, like she literally would wake up and make an immediate beeline to the woods. He decided to play up her nickname a while longer; he liked it, and it was one of the few moments where he could genuinely laugh out loud without pretending to be particularly well-mannered. Simply speaking, Gale felt like he could just act like himself, not the 'polite, young gentleman' his mother wanted him to be. "All the cats adore you and your name. It's just so _purr-_fect."

Katniss flinched at that, and little sparks flared up in her slanted gray eyes, the same eyes that reminded Gale of a cat's—deadly but with sort of a mystifying side. He thought they were rather pretty, even though her eyes and head were always pointed at the ground, like she was trying to evade everyone and get on with her life in solitude.

Gale brushed a few fallen leaves out of his dark, shaggy hair, which remained, as usual, uncut until his mother would beg him to do at least _something_ about it, and Gale tried not to be hurt by Katniss's defensiveness. It was only expected of a girl growing up in the environment that she was, but he still felt upset, betrayed even, that she would reject his help so stubbornly. Gale wasn't used to being turned down by people, especially if they happened to be girls from the ages of ten to eighteen. Of course Katniss was capable of handling and killing that bobcat all by herself, being as lean and slight as she was, but he figured it would be a nice favor that one would normally smile at and accept graciously.

Unfortunately Gale was going to get it now; Katniss didn't need anyone looking after her, especially after the loss of her own father and the difficulty of reviving her own mother from the mental shock that her own husband was blown up in a deadly mine explosion. She was a born-and-raised Seam child—aside from the typical Seam table manners—who could cope quite well on her own, thank you very much.

"Shut it, Hawthorne," her teeth gritted and her eyes, which appeared flecked with bits of dark, dazzling blue-grays in the sunlight, fixed onto the dead bobcat, a two wooden arrows sticking out of its flank. The fur was matted with dried blood and mud from the edge of the nearby stream, and the animal's piercing yellow eyes, almost eerie to look at, were stuck in an eternal glaze. The cat had been following the snares Gale had cleverly set for a few days now, Katniss having pointed out slight outlines of paw prints in the dusty, dry soil, leaving Gale amazed by her natural ability to hunt and track down and kill almost any small prey she set her mind on. _That girl has some real grit to her,_ he noted as Katniss tried to rub off some smeared dirt on her rosy cheeks with a faded burgundy shirt sleeve, which predictably, made it worse.

"Oh, and I'll get the bobcat taken care of," he gestured to the body. Katniss didn't even look at him, presumably ignoring him on the whole matter. Gale would rather have that then some ditzy girl running up and trying to give him a huge kiss on the cheek or something disgusting like that.

Katniss Everdeen was different. That was all there was to it. Hair braided, boots laced, simple clothes rumpled like she didn't give a care, misty gray eyes twinkling... he liked almost everything about her instantly, and she definitely could prove to be an exceptional hunting partner. Something made her stand out more than any other girl at school, even the ones who dolled up every day in their pricey merchant clothes and makeup. Gale, at fourteen, had already snagged a few of those rich merchant girls, even kissed the mayor's daughter once, but Katniss was special, almost like a sister to him. She could easily become the girl who could eventually become someone he trusted more than himself at times. True, she was still warming up to him, and true, they had met a mere two months ago, but he couldn't help but be caring towards her.

And besides, she was the only girl whose scowl seemed to brighten the whole town.

* * *

Katniss attempted to smooth out her coffee-colored hair, as haywire crazy as it was, thinking about how frantic her mother would be about her daughter's hair dilemma if she wasn't in a state of self-pitying shock, as Katniss called it. Careful not to let any dead, dry leaves crunch under her worn hunting boots, which were still a half-size too large, she let the rare summer breeze mix with the musty odor of the forest floor. It was a smell that somehow revived her, gave Katniss that next bit of energy to trudge home to her family's ramshackle house and put dinner on the table. Her hunting had paid off the last few months, and even though she would never admit it, Gale was helping. She was secretly surprised at how he had completely taken care of the cat for her, and despite making her feel weak and incapable, she admitted he wasn't such a terrible person to be around either. At least he shared the same opinion as her about the Capitol, though he was more vocal about it than she.

The second day they agreed to start hunting and gathering food together outside the safety of the District 12 fence, Gale had gone into a rant about how ridiculous their forced lifestyle was. How if the citizens were involved in the politics, at least the government wouldn't be full of idiots and ridiculous costume-clad flamingos that had never gotten their feathers dirty. Katniss had been speechless. Did he really trust _her_ with all this? Even a small child could be hanged for such treasonous speech. Maybe she was only shocked because she could never trust someone like he did, and she shared the exact same opinion.

Katniss had never had a true friend, other than her younger sister Primrose, who was too young to trust with some of the more dark truths about Panem anyways, and she was almost confused at why Gale would hang around her—she rarely talked in school and kept her eyes glued on the ground. She decided to be guarded and assume eventually he would leave; only wanting to learn about Katniss's methods for getting food on the table, but so far, Gale was...okay. She was slowly losing grip on her block of shyness and suspicion and starting to trust him, bit by bit. She had even let him walk behind her today; rid of the thought he would try to shoot her from behind. Friendship was almost a new feeling for Katniss, and she could never tell that the moments her heart glowed when seeing Gale was out of friendship or something else. She tried not to think too much about that; Katniss Everdeen had much better things to worry about.

After brushing these thoughts from her wandering mind, Katniss rubbed her forehead with her hand, trying to keep on track. _It's the hottest June day yet, and it's a Monday, for God's sake, I need a break. _She decided that after her and Gale had reset all the snares, she would head home, take an ice-cold bath, and collapse on the rickety old bed her and Prim shared. But she also came to the wonderful conclusion that the water would be lukewarm and stale, like almost everything else was, food included, and the bed sheets more than likely needed to be changed, resulting in another chore for Katniss. And there was no way she was going to nap on that floor where that _ugly_ cat was. Prim adored it to death, but Katniss decided that she would rather lose some sleep than be around any mangy fur ball. _No rest for me. Whatever, cut the pity-party and get this over with._

Katniss quietly bent down on the ground, her nimble fingers tampering with the slightly frayed rope of one of Gale's snares until she was able to retrieve the tangled rabbit entwined in it. If the rabbit wasn't the definition of food in the Katniss edition of the dictionary, she might have felt a pang of sadness for it, but Katniss, being hard-driven to do anything for a little meat on the table, simply shook off her frown and flung the limp rabbit onto the game bag, figuring she would skin it after she was done with the snares. Meat was meat. She felt Gale's eyes on her, and despite her mental arguments that Gale was 'the hunting partner,' Katniss's heart fluttered in her chest just enough to make her want to climb a tree and hide out for about six hours.

"Just some heart palpitations, right?" she grumbled to the dead rabbit, almost waiting for it to reply back, at least with a twitch of a nose or the blink of its wide open eyelids. But Mr. Floppy Ears remained as dead as always, and Gale's eyes remained glued on her as always. It was quite uncanny having two pairs of eyes stare at her at the same time, one being dead and the other being quite unnerving. Katniss simply shook her head. She must be having some sort of mild hallucinations from that chilled mushroom and lentil soup at the Hob; when in doubt, blame the soup. And God knows what other mysterious ingredients were added. Bent on thinking that mushrooms were the cause of her weird persona today, she set to work on resetting the snare like Gale had taught her. And she might as well take care of the bobcat because Gale looked quite content with just watching her and doing nothing else.

"Not going to try and steal that one, right?" Gale called to her as he shielded his face from the sun with his tanned arm and nodded at the rabbit, still motionless on the rough burlap game sack. "You look more in love with that one though; you keep staring at it."

_Then you must at least like me, Gale._ Katniss retorted mentally, like she always did when she wasn't bold enough to voice her comebacks. She was too shy to say it, but his statement was rather ironic.

"I didn't steal anything, Gale, shut it."

"Oh, yeah, totally didn't. _Totally_."

"Gale." Her tone should warn him to stay away.

"Katniss."

"Gale..."

"What?" He was obviously messing with her, judging by a shadow of a grin on his face.

"Oh, never mind..." She tried to be genuinely annoyed with him instead of using all this good-natured banter, but what's life without a little bit of fun? Katniss managed to crack a small grin that further cracked her dried-out lips and let out a little bit of laughter; it couldn't hurt, could it?

After all, it was the best medicine, and the dark-haired boy just might have been curing her sickness.

**I hope it was okay? :) And please refer this to friends and whatnot; I love feedback (I would love to take constructive critisim too!) So please keep on reading! And I am yammering, but also, I write daily, so you will never have to wait like... six months for an update!**

**Kisses, E**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N- Hello, dear citizens. First off, I would like to say thank you for the fantastic reviews! :) Second off, just to make this clear, I have decided to make this the 73****rd**** Hunger Games instead (and dear Primrose is a year older, too), because how the whole story plot works out, Katniss will eventually be in the 74****th**** Games like usual, but I promise plenty of action and twists in between! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins wrote the original series, so I don't own anything!**

* * *

_"We could do it you know...Out there, we could make it."_

Gale's words pound in my head, like a steady heartbeat, a heartbeat that I have not yet answered out of uncertainty and fear. It makes me nervous, so nervous in fact, that I eventually resort to just watching my boots trek through the dense, forest overgrowth. My tongue feels thick and like a wad of sandpaper, and my eyes are drilling into the back of his head. Hundreds of words and thoughts process through my brain at the same time, making it seem that I am being attacked by a thousand tracker jackers at once and I don't know where to turn. Like usual, I get a feeling of wanting to go and hide to sort out my thoughts, but before I know it, I'm probably making the stupidest decision I will ever make.

"Gale?" my voice sounds strangled and feeble, like I've just been nearly choked, and I have to cock my head to the side until I can hear the crunching of leaves under thick-soled shoes because I am afraid I am going to faint or something totally humiliating like that.

"Katniss?" Gale raises an eyebrow at me. I have found I have the tendency to blush around him lately, so I twirl designs into the dirt with the tip of my shoe instead as he stops in front of me. So much for acting nonchalant.

I've been trying to open up to him, especially this year, being the last time I will regularly see him before he is sent off to work in the District 12 coal mines after all. He's still got the same strong, tall build and dark hair, and I've still got the same gray eyes and messy braid, but the atmosphere around us is what has changed to something that I cannot comprehend, at least with my brain. It's probably something that is messing around with my heart, but District 12 has numbed that into an indistinguishable block of ice that deflects every tug on my heartstrings.

"Umm, Gale?" I ask again, sounding like a total idiot. Gulping uneasily, I tug on my long, uneven bangs like I always do when I'm apprehensive, and now, I'm completely terrified because my heart is making my decision this time, not my brain, which is significantly smarter. "I-I'll go, with you."

He stares at me in disbelief, but his gray eyes instantly brighten, like he's been waiting for this for years, and it's his birthday, the winter holidays, and relief of not getting Reaped all rolled into one. I dare to flash a quick, unsure smile, but then I take in the dull woods, Gale's shabby Seam clothes, and the smell of the dead fish that Gale has thrown into an old net, which of course, _I_ always get to carry. _Not getting Reaped…_ It instantaneously shoots a thousand moments and memories in my mind, and it's like getting hit with a thousand bullets—it's not at all pleasant.

_The Reaping._ It even sounds bone-chilling.

"It's tomorrow," I whisper through cracked lips. I wet them with my tongue, apparent that it will make it worse, but it's a habit I've developed out of nervousness. I see my mother's worn, worried face and my sweet, vulnerable sister, her bottom lip trembling and her round brown eyes glassy with tears.

"What?" Gale's eyebrows knit together in confusion, and then stay there as it turns into sick realization. "Oh, yeah, that." he mumbles. We usually try to forget about it, but the Reaping and the Games always dig their way back into our minds, no matter how far we push them back.

"I can't, Gale," Changing my mind, I fumble with the end of my braid. Suddenly it's making me so aggravated that I simply rip out the rubber band holding it all in, fling it on the ground, and let my wavy hair fall past my shoulders in tendrils of muted, and probably frizzy, curls.

"Katniss, I-"

In two, short steps I am literally inches from Gale's face, and despite me startling him, he stands his ground. I put a hand on his arm, but it makes my skin all tingly, so I take it off like I've just burned my hand on a flame and take a few small steps back. Gale does the same.

"Gale," my tone is urgent, but plainly displays the raw truth of my emotions, and some of those feelings, I see on his face as well. As much as I play upon my tough, hard-to-hit attitude, especially today, I am distraught. Helpless, even. "P-Prim, I can't do this to my own sister. Gale, it's her first year, and I know you can relate to it as much as I can." I add thoughtfully. Rory, Gale's brother, is twelve too.

And that's the perfect age for the Capitol to start messing with your mind.

_"Hello, hello! I am Opaline, all the way from a very special place, the Capitol!" a short, plump woman with a silly Capitol-esque accent and a vivid, tangerine wardrobe trills on about something all my classmates have dreaded. The Hunger Games._

_"And what will they be in next year?" Our teacher, a prudish woman straight out of the merchant part of District 12 leans up against a dark green chalkboard and prods this twittering, exotic parrot on, but we all suspect that it is part of rehearsed, mandatory lines. No one in Twelve talks about the Games as enthusiastically as this woman does. Unless she really is an old grouch and wants us all dead with knives in our backs._

_"Oh, yes!" Opaline's face, a gross, dyed orange-y hue turns a squished-tomato red as she squeals. "The Hunger Games!"_

_The room of eleven-year-old children groans inwardly and some even roll their eyes at how stupid and preposterous this woman is, all dolled up with her pumpkin-orange wig and lipstick to match. It totally shows the stark difference between their reality and ours, so I mentally nickname her 'the Orange' and pick some dirt out from under my fingernails and turn my gray, Seam eyes to the Capitol woman, figuring I can just pretend I'm listening and really space out instead. _

_We've all been waiting for this talk for a while now, and the boy sitting opposite of me, with dirty blond hair, shoots me a sympathetic look. I remove myself from my thoughts to personally give him back one that tells me to leave me alone because I am an irritable loner. I think he took the memo, judging by a crestfallen expression on his face, so I resort to letting my mind wander along the topic of dinner tonight. I'll probably have to go try and use my father's old bows again..._

"_Ahem," the teacher clears her throat, leaving me red in the face, and even though she was ratting out the kid behind me for whispering, her long, hawk-like nose and pointy-edged glasses get me to listen and nod my head along with the rest of the class, making us look like a group of bobble-heads._

_"As you know, every child in Panem between the ages of twelve and eighteen are entered into a competition of survival, the Hunger Games," Just the way the Orange says it makes me want to puke. "As eleven-year-olds, this is your last year in District 12 before you are eligible to take place, and it is very, very vital to know all the rules and guidelines. Vital means it is important!" _

_As if we wouldn't know. I shoot the Orange a look of contempt and pity for being so bubbly and, in my sense, blind. Do none of the Capitol citizens know how desperate we are, how terrible this is for us? To them it's probably just another fun television show made for their own entertainment and our own deaths._

_ Another lecture ensues about all the twelve districts of Panem, how District 13 was obliterated after rebelling. We've heard it before, but especially the wipeout of the last district settles among the room as a silent, cold, and eerie chill. The Capitol always has known how to shake us up by telling us of their raw power. I doubt I would believe it if I hadn't seen pictures of a flat, destroyed, and dead terrain called District 13. Just imagining that that could be my home makes me get a shiver down my spine.  
_

_As a conclusion, Opaline gives her wig a little tug to try to prevent it from tilting or falling off her head and declares in a voice that is thick with a Capitol accent, "And as citizens of Panem and neighbors of the Capitol, children, you should all be very proud of what your country is today."_

_My hands tense up and my fingernails rake the scratched wood top of my desk. Proud? I have a seven-year-old sister at home who is going to have to go through this as well, all because of them. I disagree. I disagree about acknowledging what we live in as 'good.' No eleven-year-old girl with a dead father and a starving family should take pride in a nation that rips apart families and kills its own children._

The memory fades, leaving my hands clenched into tight fists. Gale remembers those talks too, I can tell by just looking at the expression on his face and in his eyes. We stand awkwardly in silence, me shifting anxiously from foot to foot. I open my mouth to speak, but think again and close it. In this case, I would rather remain silent than regret what comes out of my mouth. Gale has been my friend for years now and even by me accepting and then backing out again on his offer has already left an air of uncertainty and confusion in our friendship.

Something about me has always made me a defiant person, and when someone tries to get me to, say, go to a school dance where I have to wear a _dress_, I start my own Katniss-size rebellion and well, rebel. So when Gale interrupts my thoughts with a "But…" I have the urge to either yell my way out of this mess, or simply turn around and leave.

I try to do the latter of the two, spinning around on my thick-soled boots and stalking off. Of course I don't get very far before Gale gets the memo that I'm pissed off, at him specifically. "Katniss, wha—"

"Gale, no," I simply state it, keeping my voice level and my eyes trained on him. "I _can't _leave Prim. She can't do it on her own, she can't…"

"Katniss, stop being selfish," Gale spats.

"Me? You're calling me selfish?" I must look as flustered as I feel, because Gale simply presses on during my state of shock.

"Having to stay and take care of your Pri—"

"Gale Hawthorne, shut up." My tone is more venom-coated now, and I have to grit my teeth hard in order to keep my voice from rising. "I think _you_ are the selfish one. How could you just leave your family? They need—"

"This isn't about them," Gale murmurs softly.

"Oh my God, Gale," I raise my hands up in exasperation. "Just leave me alone. My answer is a no, and that is final." After I say that, almost every single emotion I have ever felt in the last twenty-four hours wells up in my chest at once.

I'm confused about what to do, furious at Gale, disconcerted by our rare fight, and completely devastated about Prim and tomorrow. My body feels trapped in itself, and I'm so run down with all these feelings that before I know it, I sniff and a single, clear tear runs down my cheek.

"Katniss," Gale's voice calms down as he sees my state of distress, and he tries to place a hand on my arm. I smack it away like it's a fly and finally decide that I should just walk away from this, like I should have five minutes ago. But it's too late now.

Gale has seen me distraught before, but we never fight like this. Never. Only unimportant disagreements have kept us apart before, and everything else has kept us together, but a dark cloud hangs over me, telling me that I might have ruined what five years has created.

And I can count on one hand how many times he has seen me cry. Something in me wants to apologize, but another side of me, the murderous, temperamental one, tells me to give Gale the cold shoulder. Since my brain is screaming at me to at least acknowledge what I have done, I turn around to face him again. "I'm sorry, Gale." That's all there is to it, and that is all he is going to get.

My legs feel almost glued to the ground with numbness, but I manage to stomp off all the same, throwing the revolting net full of slimy, googly-eyed fish on the ground, trying deliberately to squash a few in the process. Gale and I were supposed to go to the Hob later and trade some of them, but screw that.

I've never really enjoyed the taste of fish anyways, and my mouth stretches into a little grin as I picture Gale's crestfallen face in my mind. What was he thinking? After all, this isn't a fairy tale and I definitely am not anyone's pretty, little princess.

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** A/N- Haha, I wrote that in about four hours, so please give me your sincere honesty on it! If you review then I will review yours? Until next time!**

**Kisses, E**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N- I am amazed at how many wonderful reviews I have received! I thought this story would be a total flop, so it is good to know some people enjoy it! This chapter is the Reaping, and I will throw out there that Katniss and Peeta still get chosen, but there is a huge twist coming up in a few chapters! **

**I also apologize immensely for the extreme update time…Surprise vacation to Europe! :D**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing of Suzanne Collin's work or characters, nor am I trying to make money off this or anything; I just write because it is fun!**

* * *

Every day, I grab my old hunting boots, my father's worn leather jacket, braid my thick hair, and creep into the woods. Usually I sit on a concealed rock not too far from the fishing stream and wait for Gale to show up while I tamper with my bow. We instinctively go there in the mornings, even on the coldest winter days. It's become such a habit to me that even today my hand starts to turn the doorknob and then I remember yesterday with a frown.

So I suppose that not _every day _I go to the woods with Gale. And I'm sure he probably is out there somewhere setting snares without me. My fingers lightly trace the keyhole on the heavy, wooden door, and I involuntarily let out a deep sigh.

"Katniss?"

My vision, slightly blurry with sleepiness and the pale sun shining in my eyes, makes out a set of big, sad eyes. They could be my mother's, with all the blue, but I know it is Prim. My mother never looks me in the eyes anymore. I think I remind her too much of my father, and she does her best to try to forget that.

"Prim, you okay?"

Normally Prim is a wreck in the mornings, with hair wilder than mine and her face ghostly pale out of morning tiredness. But I can tell she has been up for a while, like something has either troubled her, or she is ecstatic about something to the point of restlessness.

My sisterly instincts tell me that it is the first. Her delicate face is red and splotchy, and I can see the wetness around her eyes. And I know exactly why she is crying.

"Prim, you okay?" I ask a second time, because the first she only responded with a sniffle.

"I'm fine," she sounds stuffed up and so positively horrible that I am sure my mother would have kept her home in bed on any less important day. "What about you?"

"Me?" I give her a false smile that I hope masks my feelings. My fingers tuck in the back of my sisters old T-shirt, which was probably passed down from me, judging by a mysterious red stain on the dark green sleeve. "Little duck, I'm doing as perfectly as Katniss Everdeen should be." I smile fondly at her nickname.

"I saw you yesterday," Prim's bottom lip trembles. "Gale wasn't with you—he always walks you home. And you looked upset."

Even though I should credit her for being so observant, I say, "No, we're normal, just friends." But my voice falters, and my defensive shell threatens to crack a second time. One of these days I am going to lose myself completely. But not today. Today I have to take care of Prim.

"Prim, look at me," I stroke her hair. "It's your first year." I've always had the premonition that the Capitol rigs the Reapings anyways, and what do they have against a girl trying to keep her family alive? And they definitely have nothing against my sister.

Two years ago a girl named Arden was chosen as a tribute. No one said anything about it, presumably out of fear, but her mother was hanged earlier that year for trying to smuggle cough syrup out of the apothecary shop for her baby. I don't think I ever spoke to Arden, despite her living in the Seam, but I still felt a prickle in my heart when she was torn about viciously by an oversized, mutated lizard. And to know that the Capitol citizens thought it was a highlight of the 71st Hunger Games was sickening.

"But Katniss, it could be you too," I see a glisten on her cheeks, and I hold Prim closer as she starts to cry again.

I almost wish I had the luxury of crying on the day of my first Reaping. It would have let some of the pent-up emotions go, but taking care of Prim and my mother at the same time left me with no room to worry about what would happen to me. So I let Prim cry on my shoulder, her tears leaving a big, soaked splotch on my faded, flannel button-up.

"Little duck," I choke out as soon as Prim seems a little calmer. I needed the time too. Seeing someone you love so upset over something you can't change gives you the same, trapped feeling that they have. "It won't be me. I promise we'll be okay. I _promise_."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what," I echo her words, completely sincere. I want to warn her of what to do if I _am_ Reaped, but right now, I think it is better to remain silent and not tell Prim I have entered my name over twenty times.

We sit in silence, me cradling Prim in my arms, but we are interrupted by a heavy knock on the door. Loud noises used to scare me, like when I first ventured beyond the safety of the District 12 fences, but now, I hardly even flinch. Prim jumps out of my embrace and hurriedly unlatches the door.

"Oh, it's you," I give a look top to bottom and then step outside. Prim peeks around the corner, but she has detected the steely tones of my voice and has decided to let Gale and I resolve our problems in privacy.

"Here, I brought you strawberries," his head is held low, and I think I sense a little meekness in his usually strong voice.

"You could have bought a lot of mushroom soup from the Hob with those," I observe and eye the basket full of red, ripe strawberries. "Thank you," I whisper. Despite still being apprehensive about him, I try to smile, but it probably looks like I'm trying to hold in a burp.

"Look, Katniss," Gale starts. Yesterday I would have stopped him, but today his voice seems gentler. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. Last night I was thinking and I—"

"—realized the Katniss Everdeen is always right," I finish, grinning. Gale and I exchange the same looks we always do, and it's good to know that we have made up to each other.

But I keep getting this nagging feeling in my chest. It's the heartbeat again, saying, _"We could do it you know, out there, we could make it…" _

"Catnip, what if we didn't have our families to look after?"

"I-I don't k-know," I slip on my words as if they were a patch of ice, and my eyes scan the ground awkwardly.

Gale doesn't say anything. We just stand there in silence, in the middle of the dirt road and dirty houses. We used to be able to not speak to each other for hours, just sitting by the pond watching the sun rise high into the sky, but that reality has shattered. I can't tell what it is, but I feel… nervous around him, like I can't even say anything without sounding childish. It's very aggravating.

On a rapid impulse, I snatch the baskets of strawberries from Gale, thinking I will avoid trading for mushroom soup and just eat them this time. I mumble a half-comprehensible goodbye and something about the Reaping. My back turned to Gale; I hold my breath while I fumble with the doorknob.

"Oh, Katniss, you don't even know the effect you have on people," I hear Gale laugh. The last time I heard that one was when I made the toddlers cry at school by glaring at them. Instead of laughing back or accusing Gale of acting a little more than strange—well, more odd than normal, anyways—I practically slam the door in his face.

I release all my breath at once, and let my feet slide slowly on the coarse floorboards. Slumping against the door, I halfheartedly eye—in this case glare at—the strawberries and decide to lock the front door for good measure. A glint of something red catches my eye. It's a single strawberry, delicately—and more than likely strategically—placed on top of the basket. And it is shaped like a heart.

"Ooh, did Gale send those?" Prim face, still covered in half-dried tears, perks up instantly. She squints at me sitting by the door. "Are you _blushing_, Katniss?"

"No," I immediately squeak. "It's, um, really cold outside, little duck."

"Katniss, it's summer," my little sister raises an eyebrow suggestively.

"Okay, it's really hot out," I declare.

"Are you sure it's not Ga—"

"NO," I bolt up.

"Whatever you say, Katniss," Prim shrugs her tiny shoulders.

I burst out into a peal of nervous laughter and tug on my uneven bangs again. My gray eyes are set on that single strawberry heart. What is Gale playing at? But I think my heart already knows.

* * *

I mimic those around me, walking stiffly with a grim expression plastered onto my face. I listen to trills and chirps of birds and afternoon insects while I clasp Prim's hand tightly in my own, trying to give off a good aura. She has to learn not to be afraid of them. The Capitol, that's what they want.

"Prim, it'll be alright," At least I sound more reassuring than I feel. Pressing my slightly scuffed shoes into the scorched, dead grass, I swat a few flies away from my face.

The little duck turns her somber, round eyes towards me, but I evade her gaze a little longer than I should. "You're nervous too, Katniss," she whispers. I don't know now she manages to let a semblance of a smile dance on her face, but she does. She squeezes my hand and says, "We'll get through it together."

I still don't want to look at her, fearing I might crack anytime now. Even though I can live out a few drops of blood here and there, even become an emotionless shadow, when someone puts Katniss Everdeen's family into danger or puts her under great pressure, my facade falls away as quickly as sand slipping through your fingertips.

The next moments of my life are blurred, half out of tears and half out of boredom. I pace my way through the check-in counter, which ironically forces you to shed some blood for identification, though I think it is just a reminder for what is to come.

"K-Katniss," Prim whimpers. Her bottom lip is trembling, and she is glued to the ground in fright.

"Prim, Prim, it's okay," I bend down and smooth her hair out. "We'll get through it together, remember?"

She sniffs and nods her head. "Fine."

"Just follow everyone else your age, okay, little duck?" I try to let my words be smooth, but inside, I am quivering like a leaf. "And I'll buy you a… cake when it's over."

"From the bakery?" her eyes widen.

"Yes," I tweak her nose. "The biggest cake of all, just for you."

I suppose I will regret that later, but anything to make Prim feel better is worth the price, no matter how expensive. The baker, Mr. Mellark, always buys my squirrels anyways. Prim gets a long hug from me, a kiss on the forehead, and then she is off. We'll be okay, but I still can't get that gnawing feeling away from me that I just lost my sister.

"Hey, Katniss," I don't even have to turn around to know it's Madge, judging by her quiet, timid voice.

"Madge," I nod at her.

It sometimes seems weird, the mayor's only daughter hanging around with the district's Seam girl, but I like Madge. She doesn't talk much, like me. She's wearing some expensive looking, crisp-white dress with a very impressive gold pin in the shape of a mockingjay tacked on the front. I bet that pin costs more than my family's house, erm, shack.

"You look pretty," she observes, looking at my braided updo, courtesy of my mother, and my pleated, blue dress, also from my mother.

The time has come to plaster those fake smiles on my face, and I accept her compliment and return one to her. "I like the pin."

"Yeah, it was my aunt's," her voice drifts off as her fingers trace it.

Another voice drifts through the air, leaving everyone breathless and as silent as a corpse. It's Effie Trinket. The Reaping has begun.

"Welcome, welcome," her Capitol voice floats over us, sounding out of place compared to the foggy despair that has settled over the crowd. We will lose two today, and they don't even care. "Today, is very important, so may the odds be ever in _your_ favor."

I feel like she is looking straight at me. Effie's name, clothes, and makeup all sicken me. The colors are too vibrant and exotic, and it's all making me want to throw up. She twitters on about District 13 and of course, Panem's 'wonderful history,' which usually involves some sort of explosion and cruel enslavement.

"Now, we will select our two very important tributes. Can I get a clap?"

_ Shut it, Trinket. No one is ever going to clap for you. _My jaw is clenched hard, while my heart is fluttering wildly in my chest. Others around me are waiting uneasily, and I resort to looking at the dull, town square around me and the annoyingly cheerful, blue sky above.

Her heels click on the stage, and when she crosses over to the giant glass orb, consisting on hundreds, even thousands of names, I close my eyes so tightly I see purple spots the exact shade of Effie's wig. Her philosophy is 'ladies first,' and I suppose it is logical to just get it over with, but deep down, the Reaping still scares me half to death.

"Our female tribute is…" Her long, talon-like fingernails, also a revolting purple hue, feel around all those slips of fateful paper before precisely pulling one out. A clear of her throat and a smooth of her skirt and even the Peacekeepers are holding their breath.

I turn my head and make eye contact with Gale. He has a pleading look on his face, as if to say, _'Please don't be picked.' _I suppose he will just have to depend on the odds like the rest of us. Effie flashes a sick smile and then squints at the piece of paper. It takes her a minute to read it, like the handwriting is unclear. When the name is read, it takes me a minute too, but this time to register it into my brain.

Of course Effie can't read that shaky name scribbled onto that one slip of paper. It says _'Primrose Everdeen'_ on it, after all.

* * *

**A/N- Okay, that was a major filler chapter, nothing too new, and I yet again apologize for not updating! I feel so bad. :( Please leave any reviews, and feel free to PM me and whatever! Until next time!**


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